Sympathy for the Devil
by Kyojiro Kagenuma
Summary: What if there was more to Micah, just like Dutch said? After Arthur saves Micah from prison, he begins to notice a bit of a change in behavior. Still a pain in the ass, but no longer detestable as he once was. Not a good man, perhaps, but a man with some good inside him. Someone constantly at war with his demons. A collection of Micah Bell snippets that spans through the story.
1. Micah Keeps His Head

Micah Bell and Arthur Morgan burst out from the Strawberry Sherriff's office, the former having just been freed from imprisonment. Seeing no other choice, Arthur had shot the sheriff and his deputies to get Micah out. He hadn't even wanted to be here, and he had made no secret of it. Arthur disliked Micah, and never understood what Dutch saw in him. To Arthur, Micah was nothing more than the same kind of scum that the O'Driscoll gang was made of. Only Arthur's loyalty to Dutch brought him there that night, and he doubted Micah would ever change. Little did Arthur know, his act of loyalty had made a substantial impact on Micah. Despite his threats and shouts, if Micah was being honest with himself, he wasn't sure if anyone was coming for him. He knew he had made few friends, and most only tolerated him, if that. The fact that they had come for him, and that it was Arthur of all people, gave him cause to think, but not right now. There would be time for that later.

"Come on, let's get the hell outta here!" Arthur exclaimed, heading towards the horses.

"No," Micah said, standing firm. "I'm not done here yet. I've got to get back what's mine!"

"What in the hell are you talking about, you fool?" Arthur snapped at him harshly.

"My guns!" Micah yelled, deciding to be honest with the man that had saved him. "A bastard who I thought was my friend, he stole my fucking guns! He's the whole reason I was in there!"

"You were in there because you're a reckless, bloodthirsty fool, and I'm not dying because of your precious guns!" Arthur shot back, having none of his nonsense. "Those guns aren't worth your damn life, Micah, not that it's worth very much."

Micah's wild eyes flared, although he brushed the comment aside. "Those guns are my life, Morgan! They mean more to me than anything else!"

"Then you live a sad, pathetic life," Arthur said, breaking away towards the horses again. "If you wanna go after your guns, fine, but I'm not helping you. I'll just tell Dutch you died in the escape. No skin off my bones."

Micah seethed in frustration, watching Arthur walk away. He looked in the direction of Skinny's house, realizing that alone he would never make it through the entire town. For a second, he thought it over, wondering if he should risk it. It was more for pride than anything else, not that he realized that.

"Go on, please, make my day," Morgan went on, mounting his horse. "You'll be remembered as the loathsome little shit you were," he said, before taking off towards the edge of town.

Micah's window was closing. If he waited much longer, he knew he'd be shot without even getting to make a decision.

"Dammit! Damn it to hell!" Micah cursed, running to a horse that was hitched near Arthur's.

He had no idea what had happened to his original horse, and he didn't have time to look. He'd have to steal this one. He knew he wouldn't be able to come back here anytime soon to reclaim his guns, not without risking getting shot or hanged again. Ultimately, he decided not to march into a suicide mission after only just escaping certain death. He mounted the horse, racing after Arthur as the angered, armed citizens and lawmen of Strawberry began to flood the streets. Fortunately for him, he was gone before they were able to figure out what had happened. Soon enough, he caught up to Arthur on the road out of Strawberry, who looked a bit surprised to see the blond outlaw riding next to him.

"Well shit, here I was thinking I'd never see you again. Looks like you've got some sense after all. How disappointing," Arthur antagonized.

"Shut up," Micah said back, not in close to being in the mood. "I'll have to go back for them later. I'm not dying today, not after that."

"You're smarter than you look, Micah, although that ain't saying much."

"Enough already, let's just get as far away from this shithole as possible."

"On that, we can agree," Arthur admitted, offering no argument to that suggestion.

The two rode relentlessly for quite some time, not stopping until they had crossed the border into New Hanover, when they were sure they were in the clear. Finally, they were forced to give their horses a break. Micah planned on returning to West Elizabeth soon, for he had a score in mind from the information he had gotten from the O'Driscoll he had shared a cell with, that is before he put a bullet in his head. For now, he'd have to wait for things to cool down first. He wasn't going back there now, that was for sure. Micah let out a heavy sigh, for now he had to swallow his pride once more.

"Alright, Morgan, let's talk serious for a second," he said, leaning forward on his horse. "I know that you and I don't always see eye to eye, and you see me as a threat, and I like to irritate you," Micah said, to which Arthur only responded with a curious stare. "But that shit you just pulled? I owe you for that, and I will make it up to you. Dutch too. I swear to you on that."

Arthur didn't respond at first, but looked at him rather skeptically.

"Yeah, well, I'll believe it when I see it," Arthur said back, a bit surprised by his seemingly grateful demeanor. He didn't trust Micah, and he surely didn't put him above lying to his face.

"No, I'm serious. To start, I'm giving you a holster. My way of saying thank you," Micah said, handing him an off-hand holster. "Now you can have twice the fun."

"Well, thank you for not being quite as crazy as I thought you was," Arthur replied, taking it from his grasp. "Still don't trust you for shit, though."

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I fucked up, got into trouble. Like that's never happened to you before. Like it or not, Arthur, but we're family now. Sons of Dutch, makes us brothers, and sometimes brothers make mistakes," Micah said, turning his horse around. "Come by around my camp round back of Strawberry in a few days, and maybe I'll make it up to you. I got something coming together, and I could use your help when it does."

Morgan eyed him, "So, you're not going back to Dutch?"

"No no no, I've been a bad boy, Arthur. I ain't going back to face Dutch without some sort of peace offering, that's the score I'm talking about."

"Just don't go getting yourself into more trouble, cause I'm not coming to bail you out a second time," Arthur warned.

"I get the message, I'll lie low. You got my word," Micah said as his horse started to trot off in another direction.

"Your word doesn't mean shit to me, Micah, not until you prove you can be trusted, which I'm not sure you'll ever do. Not at this rate. Not to me."

"Like I said, I'm gonna make it up to you. Bye for now," Micah called out, now galloping out of earshot, away from the direction of the camp.

Arthur was grateful that Micah had ended up seeing sense, and decided not to shoot up half a town just to get his guns back, but he still didn't trust him as far as he could throw him. He wasn't sure what Dutch saw in Micah, but he sure as hell didn't see it. All he saw was a fool with a chip on his shoulder and far too much to prove. Still, he trusted Dutch's judgement, so maybe, just maybe, there was more to Micah. He had a long way to go before he fully earned Arthur's trust, a very, very long way. Dutch had said he could see the strength of Micah's character through his bluster, or something like that.

He hoped Dutch was right. He hoped he was wrong about Micah, but for now, "brother" or not, he was still a threat. Micah had managed to keep his head, for once, but Arthur would be keeping his eye on him. He'd have to check back with Micah in a few days, and see if this job he mentioned was worth anything or not. Micah always earned his keep as far as money went, of that even Arthur could not deny.

* * *

 **This story will bounce around the main story line to portray Micah in a more sympathetic manner. I know Micah's a douche, but I always thought there really could have been more to him before he started his final descent into evil. I'm not going to attempt to tell a full story here, just skip around to show what things could have been like if Micah was more honorable of a person, and his relationships with other gangmembers, primarily Arthur.**


	2. Bloody Retribution

Bloody Retribution

It had been a few days since the stagecoach robbery with Micah, and it had ended up being a pretty profitable robbery, despite a few bumps. They had ended up having to ditch the carriage, as it was all but destroyed by the O'Driscolls ambush, much to Micah's annoyance. He had held his own in the ensuing gunfight, but holding his own was never the problem. Still, Arthur supposed he couldn't be blamed for the robbery going sideways, quite literally.

Since he got back to the camp, Micah had been acting rather strangely. He just sat in silence most of the time, sulking in solitude. Most just left him be, as did Arthur. If he was being honest, he was just happy Micah wasn't being as annoying as he usually was. Finally, however, Micah spoke up once again, and ti was Arthur he came to.

"Hey, Morgan, talk to you for a second?" Micah asked, approaching his fellow outlaw near the campfire.

No one else was around, and Morgan had been using this time to write in his journal. Now he would be forced to deal with Micah's presence. Arthur could have told him hit the bricks, but he decided to at least hear him out. Micah wasn't being rude yet, so he didn't feel the need to be either.

"Yeah, sure I guess," Morgan agreed, for he was just about done anyhow. "Whaddya want Micah?" he asked with a rather impatient sounding tone that he didn't care to mask. Micah was lucky that Arthur was even giving him the time of day, and Micah knew that himself.

Micah took a seat on the crate across from Arthur, leaning over the campfire, the flames from below showing a clear, heated reflection in his eyes as he began to speak.

"I'm going after my guns, Arthur. Tonight. I think Strawberry has cooled down enough to sneak in quick and head back out."

"You're still on about that?"

"Of course I am. I told you, they're precious to me."

Arthur shook his head, "So go then. No one's stoping you, certainly not me."

"Why do you think I'm here, Morgan?" Micah asked, feeling he was playing dumb. "To give you a fucking update on what's going on in my life? I want you to come along with me. Watch my back in case things go sideways like last time."

"And why in the hell would I do a thing like that?"

"Cause I'll pay you," Micah proposed. "I'll pay good. You're good in a fight, Morgan, and at the moment, there's not much here to choose from. Bill's a halfwit, and Lenny's just a kid."

"Lenny would never go with you again, not after last time," Arthur pointed out.

"Which is why I'm asking you," Micah said, for Arthur had only proved his point.

Arthur thought it over for a second. "How much money?"

"I've got fifty dollars I can spare," Micah said, the amount surprising Arthur a bit. "If that's not enough, I got this pocket watch if you want it. I know for a fact it's worth something."

Arthur eyed Micah curiously, for he was offering a fair bit of a profit for a job that didn't seem too complicated. He must have known Arthur wouldn't have wanted to come unless he made it worth his while.

"Why do these guns mean so damn much to you? Why not just buy some new guns? You clearly got the money."

"That ain't none of your concern, Morgan, and I'm fairly certain you don't actually care."

Micah was mostly right about that, as Arthur was more curious than anything else.

"Listen, the money's good. We'll get my guns and get out quick, alright? After I deal with the backstabbing bastard who took them, anyway."

"You gonna kill'em?"

"Yeah, that's what I planned," Micah said honestly. "What do you care? This guy ain't no innocent, he's a crook, just like me or you."

"I don't, really," Arthur said back. "Just wanted to make sure what I was walking into this time."

"Well I sure as hell won't throw him a fucking party, that's for sure."

"Just as long as you don't turn it into a fucking massacre," Arthur made clear.

"So, you're in then?" Micah asked, giving a slight, sly grin.

"Yeah, sure. I ain't got nothing' better to do at the moment, and I could use the money."

"That's what I like to hear. I wanna leave as soon as possible, so if you need to get ready, then make it fast."

"Nah," Arthur said, standing up. "I got everything I need."

* * *

The ride to Strawberry had been a mostly silent one, as Micah's mind seemed set on one thing and one thing only. Arthur was perfectly content to enjoy the quiet, especially while in Micah's presence. He could see the fire in Micah's eyes, and he seriously hoped he wouldn't live to regret this decision. Hopefully, Micah would be able to keep his head again, and there would be little or no complications. Arthur wasn't holding his breath, however. They left their horses just outside town and snuck in during the night, wanting to draw as little attention to themselves as possible. Thankfully, the house they were looking for as close to the edge of town. They went around the back of the house, with Arthur wielding a double-barrel shotgun. They both wore masks, even though Micah fully expected, and wanted Skinny to know who had come knocking.

"Come on, pick that damn lock Morgan," Micah whispered, hugging the wall closely.

"Give me a second," Arthur said back, crouching to work on the door.

When Arthur heard the lock click, he looked up, nodding to Micah.

"We're in."

"Alright, good. Let's make this fast," Micah said, waiting for Arthur to go in first, since he was closer.

Arthur put his hand on the knob, slowly turning it. He pushed on the door slightly, letting it creak open just a bit to peek through. Micah jumped in a fight as a shotgun blast tore through the door, and Arthur had suddenly hit the ground. Apparently Skinny had noticed his lock being picked.

"Jesus Christ!" he shouted, ducking away from the door.

"You alright?" Micah asked, not seeing any blood whatsoever.

"I'm fine! Bastard nearly took my head off," Arthur replied, still getting himself together.

Micah turned and burst through the door, revolver in hand. "You always were a shitty shot you weak fuck!" he yelled, aiming his pistol at the shadowy figure, who was struggling to reload their shotgun.

Micah fired several shots into the room in short succession, and was more than a little surprised to hear a rather feminine shriek as one of the bullets hit their mark. The figure toppled over onto the floor, groaning as they bled all over the floor.

"What the hell?" Micah asked himself, as Arthur came into the room, looking equally as confused. "That's not Skinny," Micah said, taking a lantern that was laid on the table and bringing it up so he could see just who he had shot.

The lantern revealed a red-headed woman, lying on the floor, a hateful glare in her eye as she stared the two men down.

"Who the hell is this Micah?" Arthur asked, for he had said nothing about a woman.

"Maddie," Micah answered, coming closer to the fallen woman. "Skinny's squeeze. He uses her in his schemes. Partner in crime," Micah spat, raising his revolver to Maddie's head. "Where's Skinny, Maddie? Where're my guns?"

"Damn you, Micah Bell," Maddie said, trying to crawl away. "Damn you to Hell."

Micah just gave a slight snicker. "Damn us both, darlin'," Micah replied, before pulling the trigger again, shooting Maddie in the face.

"Fucking Christ," Arthur shook his head, as Maddie slumped to the floor dead, giving Micah a hard look.

"What? Bitch tried to kill us. Hell, I was doing her a favor at that point," Micah reasoned.

"Don't give me that, you wanted to shoot her."

"Maybe I did. Maybe the whore had it comin'. Doesn't matter. She's dead. We're not. Now get to searching. I don't think Skinny's here," Micah said, stepping over Maddie's dead body to search the house for his personal revolvers.

"If he were, I think we'd know it by now," Arthur said back, following after him. "We need to make this fast, folks are gonna be comin' after all that noise."

The two outlaws began to loot the house as quick as they could, taking any valuables as well as Micah's revolvers. After a few minutes, Micah finally found what he was looking for, hidden away in a lockbox under the bed, after he had all but torn the room apart."

"Morgan! Found 'em!" Micah announced, eagerly taking back both his prized possessions.

"Why the hell was he keeping them locked away, ya think? Why did he even want them?"

"Cause Skinny's a sneaky fuckin' fence, that's why, and they're worth a pretty penny," Micah said back, brushing past Arthur and heading towards the exit. "Come on, we don't wanna stick around this hellhole."

Arthur still didn't know the whole story as to what exactly had happened that night in Strawberry. It was clear that Micah and Skinny had some falling out, and somehow that involved some O'Driscolls. He wasn't about to ask now, and Micah probably wouldn't tell him much anyway. Arthur hurried after Micah, eager to leave the scene of a murder before the law showed up, which he imagined wouldn't be too much longer, unless they were utterly incompetent.

Micah and Arthur snuck out the same way they came out of, again stepping over the body of the slain Maddie. They darted from the property, just as the Sherriff and his deputies were approaching the front of the house to inspect the scene. Micah and Arthur arrived at their horses hidden in the trees, seemingly scot-free.

"And what are you gonna do about Skinny? He's not gonna take kindly to this. You killed his woman, and he'll know it was you."

"That's not your problem, is it?" Micah shot back. "I'll have to deal with him later. I still owe that son of a bitch a bullet."

"If he comes after you, that means he's coming after us, and then it will be my problem, Micah. The last thing I want is this asshole coming after you and killin' someone in camp. If something happens, this is all on you."

"I suppose we'll burn that bridge when we come to it, Morgan," Micah said as he climbed onto his horse, growing irritated at Arthur's constant complaining. "You worry too much. It went well, and you got your money. Besides, in the way of enemies, we've got a hell of a lot worse to worry about than Skinny fuckin' Ferguson."

"You better be right, Micah, or it's your ass," Arthur said back, climbing up on his own horse.

"He's a fence, Morgan. Not a gunman. Besides, he's got no idea where we're at. You got nothing to be afraid of."

As they rode off back towards New Hanover, Arthur couldn't help but think he hadn't seen the last of this little conflict between Micah and Skinny. As much as he hated to admit it, he was mixed up in this too. If Skinny came looking for Micah and someone ended up getting hurt, Arthur would be more pissed at himself than Micah. He knew the man was no Leviticus Cornwall or Agent Milton, but fences have connections in the underworld. No matter what, he didn't think he'd be revisiting Strawberry any time soon, and Micah sure as hell wasn't either. For now, they could add Skinny Ferguson to their list of loose ends they'd have to tie up eventually.


	3. Proving Micah Wrong

_Proving Micah Wrong_

Since Micah had retrieved his guns, he seemed to be in a much better mood. Which of course meant that he was being an obnoxious, self-righteous pain in the ass again, and Arthur was starting to wonder if the money was worth having Micah back to his old self. Well, mostly his old self anyway. He still loved to irritate people, but he wasn't quite as callous or mean-spirited as he once was. To Arthur, however, that hardly meant he was turning over a new leaf. All it meant was he was just a bit less of an asshole than he used to be, for whatever reason. Arthur chalked it up to him just being in a good mood. Since the gang rescued Sean from captivity as well, he couldn't help but notice he had been talking with Micah quite a bit. Arthur couldn't but wonder why, and also worry for the young boy. They didn't exactly seem like natural friends, although Arthur supposed he had seen odder, and he had seen the two laughing together on more than one occasion. Then again, Sean was easily amused, and Micah enjoyed making jokes at the expense of others. He had a feeling, however, that they were planning a job together of some sort. The last thing Arthur wanted was Micah getting Sean killed over some crazy stunt, and he sure as hell didn't trust Micah to care if anything happened to him. Eventually, he felt the need to confront Micah about it before it went any further.

"Micah," Arthur said, approaching the outlaw as he was sharpening his knife at the table.

"Well, hello dear friend," Micah said, only glancing at Arthur for part of a second before turning his attention back to the knife. "Whatever can I do for you?"

"What's going on with you and Sean, Micah? You putting ideas in his head?"

"And what are you, his mother?" Micah asked, turning to Arthur fully now, a bothered expression on his face. "Do you hate me so much that you won't even let me make any friends?"

"You're not his friend. You and I both know you don't give a damn about that boy, so don't go getting him killed, or you'll have me to deal with."

"That's where you're wrong, Arthur. I like the boy, I do. He's got a lotta heart, and he doesn't complain every five seconds like you do. His aim could use work, though."

"I know you're planning somethin' with him. I'm warning you, Micah. Anything happens to Sean, it's on you."

"Oh for fuck's sake, why does everything gotta be on me?" Micah asks, rising from his seat and staring Arthur down. "He's a grown man, well mostly. He can make his own damn choices. I'm not forcing him to do anything. If you're so damn worried, why don't you come along? As long as you promise not to whine the whole time. We could use another gun."

This gave Arthur pause for thought. The gang could always use more money, and this way he could keep an eye on Micah and Sean both.

"What kinda job is it?"

"Homestead," Micah said with a devious grin. "Bunch of O'Driscoll boys sitting on a score they took from a stagecoach a few days back. I overheard a bunch of the fool's blabbin' about it at the saloon, said they got it stashed at an old ranch north of Valentine. Already scouted it, all's left to do is rob the livin' daylights out of the damn fools."

"Why are they waitin' so long to divide it up?"

"Hell if I know, I didn't stop to ask them. Maybe Colm wants a taste. Doesn't really matter, does it?"

"No, I suppose not," Arthur replied, "How much we talkin'?"

"Not sure, but if it was enough to get the O'Driscoll's so excited, I figure it's gotta be a pretty good take. We're leavin' in a few hours. You in or out?"

"In on what?" came a sudden, feminine voice from nearby.

Micah and Arthur turned to see the mischievous Mary Beth approach, an intrigued look on her young, pretty face.

"Nothin' you need to concern yourself with," Micah snapped, dismissing Mary Beth's interest. "The last thing we need is a girl distractin' us."

Mary-Beth made a sour face, "Why do you always have to be so awful, Micah? You never give us a chance. I'm bored to death here, and I can help, I know I can! Tell him, Arthur!" Mary-Beth said, appealing to her friend.

"It's true, Micah," Arthur nodded, "She's a distraction alright, and she's a damn good one. Nothing gets men to lower their guard down than a pretty face like hers."

"If we sent this girl in there alone, those O'Driscoll boys will rob her, rape her, then probably kill her. They don't go no sympathy for innocents like this outfit does, Morgan. You saw what they did to old Mister Adler, didn't you?"

"They'll never even get that close. I've done this before, Micah. I'm not some defenseless little girl, I can shoot if I need to!"

"You can shoot? I bet you couldn't hit a tree in a forest," Micah said back, only causing Mary Beth's angry frown to intensify.

"Enough, Micah," Arthur butted in, defusing the situation. "We should at least talk to Sean, see what he thinks."

"Talk to me about what?" came the Irish man's voice, hearing his name from around the corner.

"Oh Christ," Micah sighed, realizing this had quickly turned into a group meeting.

"Micah asked me to come along on this job you got going with Micah," Arthur explained, then gesturing to female to his side. "Mary-Beth here thinks she could help, too."

"Well of course she can," Sean agreed with a smile, "No one puts on a false friendly face like Mary here, other than meself of course."

"Fine! Fine! The girl can come!" Micah finally conceded, rising from his seat to point a finger in Mary-Beth's direction. "But you better not be a burden girl. I got no tolerance for dead weight, male or female."

"Whatever you say Micah," Mary-Beth said, glaring right back. "Whatever you say."

The four riders headed North past Valentine, following Micah to the O'Driscoll homestead in the woods. Micah didn't doubt that there'd be plenty enough for all four of them, he would just rather do things the simple way with four strong gunmen, rather than all these diversion tactics involving a woman who's probably never killed a man in her life. That said, the plan was pretty simple. Arthur, Sean, and Micah would hide in the tree line, while Mary-Beth approached the homestead, playing up the "lost little girl" act, getting as many O'Driscolls out in the open as possible. When they got too close to Mary-Beth, she'd duck out of the way, and that's when the shooting would start. Micah had never truly seen Mary-Beth in action before, so he just hoped she could keep her head, literally as well as metaphorically.

"Alright, we're comin' up on it now!" Micah announced, slowing down at the side of the path. "Let's hitch the horses over here, best not to draw attention to ourselves."

Now on foot, the four made their way down the path, being careful not to make too much noise. When the homestead was within sight, the three men scurried off the path and into the trees, while Mary-Beth remained, taking a very deep breath.

"Alright, I see two of em' outside, at the moment," Sean said as he peered at the house, before turning to his female companion. "Alright Mary-Beth, work your magic," he smirked encouragingly.

"Yes, let's see if you're as good as you say you are," Micah replied, much less confident.

Mary-Beth ignored Micah, putting on her best sad, innocent face, before making her way into the open. She had fooled folks much smarter than these O'Driscolls, she just had to make sure she didn't herself shot in the crossfire.

"Hello? Is anybody home? Hello?" she called out, quickly getting the attention of the two thugs.

"What the hell?" came one of their voices, directing his attention to the approaching Mary-Beth. "Well, look at what we got here, Pete," he said to his friend as he laid eyes on the beautiful siren.

The O'Driscoll thug grinned as he stepped out into the open, the man he called Pete following close behind. Now that she was closer, Mary-Beth could clearly see three other gang members outside as well, although further away. They were now looking in her direction as well.

"What can I do for you, missy?" the thug asked with false friendliness, trying not to chase her away.

"Oh mister, I'm so glad I found you. You see, I got separated from my family, and my horse just up and died on me, and I haven't got any food or nothin'!"

"Oh, well isn't that just a damn shame? I'm dreadful sorry," the thug lied, looking back to see the other O'Driscolls were approaching to see what all the fuss was about. "Why don't you come on inside? We got plenty of food. Why don't ya come on inside, put some food in your belly?"

"Well, that's very kind of you," Mary-Beth smiled coyly.

The beauty of this act was that the thug thought he was reeling her in, while in reality he was the one being deceived. However, Mary-Beth didn't want to get too close to him, for she could see right through his poor attempt at a ruse, and knew right away what he really planned to do with her. She still needed to kill more time, for the last three O'Driscolls weren't out in the open quite yet. Mary-Beth took a step towards the house, then pretended to trip, collapsing to the ground.

"Ow, gosh that hurts! I been walkin' for so long, I think I finally pulled somethin'! If you could just help me inside," Mary-Beth said, trying to sound as helpless as she could.

"For Chrisssakes, alright, I'm comin'," the thug sighed, making his way towards Mary-Beth. "You better be as tight as you are pretty ya stupid strumpet," the thug muttered to himself, but foolishly loud enough for Mary Beth to hear. She sure wouldn't feel bad getting this scum killed, that was for sure.

When the thug's friends had gotten to what Mary-Beth hoped was close enough, she looked to the thug approaching her with a smug grin. "Stupid strumpet, am I? Looks like I'm smart enough to fool you, you dumb O'Driscoll!" she said, suddenly springing to her feet and dashing out of the line of fire.

"What? Oh shite!" the O'Driscoll boy's realization came too late, as the Arthur, Micah, and Sean opened fire, tearing the foolish man apart with a volley of bullets.

Caught off their guard, the remaining four gang members outside were stuck in the open without any cover to speak of.

"It's a trap! It's the Van Der Li—," was all one of them was able to get out, before he was promptly shot in the face, courtesy of Micah Bell.

The remaining three O'Driscolls could only fire blindly into the trees, unable to see their assailants as they were picked off. An all-out shoot-out had erupted, as the remaining O'Driscolls on the property had emerged from the buildings to defend their stash. Of the four who were caught off guard, only one remained alive, and quickly turned away, desperately fleeing the in the direction of the homestead. Sean Macguire stepped out from the trees, unleashing both barrels of his shotgun on the retreating O'Driscoll. Mary-Beth grimaced a bit at the amount of blood that erupted from his body as he was shot in the back, collapsing to the ground with a scream of agony. She pulled out her pistol just in case, but she mostly tried to remain out of sight. She was no gunfighter. She had done her part.

The men moved up, advancing on the homestead as the more cowardly O'Driscolls had already begun to flee into the woods. Most O'Driscoll gunmen were just worthless thugs that could barely shoot straight, and were no match for exceptional, experienced gunfighters such as Arthur Morgan and Micah Bell, although the young Sean MacGuire was certainly holding his own. Mary-Beth followed, trying to keep up and contain herself as she hugged the barn wall. Micah Bell joined her at her side, taking cover to reload his revolvers.

"Excitin' enough for you?" he asked with a snarky grin, quickly glancing to her.

"Well, I have to admit, this is more action than I'm used to," Mary-Beth confessed over the gunfire, trying to stop herself from panicking. "The distraction worked pretty well, don't ya think? I told you I could do it, Micah."

"Big fuckin' deal, you did what you said you were gonna do," Micah snapped, still not impressed. "Just keep your pretty little head down, we'll take it from here."

Micah turned around the corner, only to get bushwhacked by an O'Driscoll who had been waiting on the other side. He knocked Micah to the ground with a hard strike to the head with the butt of his rifle, now aiming down at rattled blond outlaw, both of his revolvers out of reach.

"I got you now, ya filthy Van Der Linde dog!"

"Stop!" came Mary-Beth's high, nervous voice.

The thug turned to see the young woman holding her holding her pistol with both hands, shaking like a leaf on a tree. She seemed hesitant to pull the trigger, and had foolishly warned the rival gang member first. She had a terrified, but exhilarated look in her still innocent eyes. Micah was regaining consciousness, looking up to see the scene before him. The O'Driscoll had his rifle pointed at his skull, and unless Arthur or Sean had noticed this, his only hope was Mary-Beth Gaskill. He could try to make a dash for one of his guns, but ten to one odds said that would end with him getting shot almost instantly.

"Put down the gun, or I'll shoot you. I swear I will."

The O'Driscoll answered with a disbelieving stare, then a mocking laugh.

"You look like you've never shot a man in your life, girlie," the outlaw correctly assumed. He didn't think she could do it, and frankly, neither did Micah. "You wait your turn bitch, I'll get to you soon enough."

The O'Driscoll turned his eyes back to Micah Bell, fully intending to shoot him dead. For a second, Micah really thought this was how he died. He always knew he'd die in a gunfight, like his father and grandfather before him, but getting shot in the face after getting knocked clean out by a lowly, drunk O'Driscoll was hardly the death he had hoped for. Certainly not something he could brag about once he got to Hell.

"Fuck you," Micah spat defiantly, "You O'Driscoll piece of—."

Micah actually flinched when the gunshot came, but mostly out of surprise that he wasn't the one to get shot. Blood spurted from the stunned thug's neck as he slid down the wall, slowly dying. Mary-Beth, looking just as shocked as both of them, had found her guts at the last second. She lowered her pistol, gaping disbelievingly at the man she had fatally shot.

"Oh my God," she said with a gasp, feeling sick to her stomach. "Are you alright?" she asked, looking to Micah.

"Oh sure, fine and dandy," Micah said, retrieving both of his revolvers. "I can't tell what's more humiliating, getting killed by him, or saved by you."

"Excuse me? I just saved your life, Micah Bell. I just . . . God, I just killed a man."

Micah wasn't sure how to respond. She certainly had saved his life, despite the fact she was mostly disdainful of him. Now she looked like she was about to faint, meanwhile there was still a gunfight going on. If it wasn't obvious she had never shot someone before, it was now.

"Well, thanks," Micah forced himself to say, looking down to the O'Driscoll, who had died from blood loss by now. "I gotta get back out there," he said, for the fight wasn't finished.

"I think I'll stay right here," Mary-Beth said, still trying to get a hold of herself.

Micah reached into his coat, taking out a flask of whiskey. He walked right up to her, shoving it into Mary-Beth's hands.

"Here, that'll help with the nerves," he said, knowing from his own experience. He owed her now, as much as he hated to admit it.

Mary-Beth looked a little shocked at the gesture, but was happy to take the drink. "Thank you, Micah," she said, not believing the words were coming out of her mouth.

"Don't you thank me, just don't tell no one about this," Micah made clear, outstretching a finger in her direction. "I mean it, Mary-Beth. Don't tell a soul."

"Fine, whatever you say," Mary-Beth agreed. "Just go kill the rest of those degenerates."

"Oh, with pleasure," Micah replied, leaving her now to rejoin the gunfight.

Mary-Beth wasted no time in downing some of Micah's whiskey, welcoming the calming feeling that followed. She sank down the barn wall, scooting herself away from the man she had killed. She sighed in exhaustion as the last few O'Driscolls were picked off or run off. She took another swig of the whiskey, which she had to admit was a lot of help. Maybe after this, Micah would come to appreciate her and the rest of the girls more. She could only hope. He had swallowed his pride enough to thank her, even going so far as to help her cope with her first killing, which she most certainly did not expect. Mary-Beth took a deep breath, trying to relax. The take for this job better have been gone, whatever it was.

"What a world."


End file.
